


Siren's Lament

by orphan_account



Category: Siren's Lament (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - The Little Mermaid Fusion, Angst, Canon - Webcomic, Disney, F/F, F/M, Fantasy, Fiction, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Human Ariel (Disney), Little Mermaid Elements, M/M, Male Ariel (Disney), Sad Ending, Sirens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:07:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25777900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Content with her ordinary life, Lyra is somewhat of a wallflower. However, her comfortable lifestyle suddenly goes astray when she accidentally plunges into the world of sirens. Entangled in a curse, Lyra will learn that her world may be a lot bigger than she had ever imagined.(This is a remake of the webtoon Siren's Lament by instantmiso, in a book format.)
Relationships: Ariel/Eric (Disney), Ariel/Ursula (Disney)
Kudos: 1





	1. The Moon

The moon glows against the darkened sky, it’s imperfections hidden from the world. The sky is overcast- should one hope to wish on a star, they would not prevail. Still, the moon watches the waves below her, as they crash into one in another, blues and greens and whites. When the moonshine hits the waves, they shimmer blue but otherwise, the ocean is rippling black silk, veiling chaos beneath its beauty. 

Even the stars fight their way through the clouds in hopes of catching a glimpse of the fallen child. She sinks lower and lower, her dress billowing out around her. She is delicate and looks to be made of porcelain. One may have assumed she was a doll if she wasn’t jerking so sharply. Her face is a painting of twisted emotions and brutal strokes- her hands, small gentle hands that have held and loved, they search for purchase, but the ocean is merciless. The ocean does not help the girl. The waves laugh loudly as the moon watches somberly. 

And then, she goes still. She falls further and further into the depths of darkness. Death makes her entrance and reaches her ancient hands out to hold the girl. But just as she does, the waves stutter. They shudder in fear and go quiet as another melody enters their symphony. Here comes a song of love and sorrow. Of loss and tragedy. Death halts to listen.

A man, a mermaid, a siren. His corded muscles shift as he reaches out to the fallen girl. Her dark hair spreads out around them like ink, his skin unblemished and exotic. The stars swoon as he brings his lips closer to hers and brushes them amongst her jaw, leaving a stroke of heat on her cold skin. His hands-hands that have held, hands that have loved, hands that have killed- they bring her neck closer to him. He wraps an arm around her waist, and finally lowers his lips down to hers. 

* * *

The sun smiles down at the Carnation flower shop, as Lyra chips at her nails. A soft voice sneaks out from the corner of the room.  
“You don’t like the colour?” it asks. Lyra starts, head snapping up to meet the gaze of her best friend- Shon.  
“It was a little bold for me,” says Lyra, reaching up to brush her hair back but finding that her hair was already tied. Shon smiles crookedly, before gently taking her hand to inspect the damaged nails.  
“I thought it was cute.” he chuckles softly, and Lyra curses inwardly for ruining the hot pink nail polish. “You have a natural charm Lyra, you don’t need to pretend to be someone else.”  
Out of the two of them, Shon was definitely the charmer. He brought the most customers to the flower shop, with his shy smiles and twinkling eyes, combined with his golden-red hair, and his eyes-soft emerald green, like sea glass. Suffice to say, Shon was deceptively beautiful. She hated that his cheekbones were high and elegant, and his lips were always soft and pursed, and how his shirt always clung to his lean torso. She hated everything about the way he looked because it just made her feel so ordinary. That, and it was also very hard to work when he was around.  
Lyra had inherited the flower shop from her withering grandma, a woman who was on borrowed time and a loan of breaths. Before Shon had stepped in to help her, she had been struggling, teetering on the edge of failure and disappointment at the notion that she may have to sell her grandma’s beloved store. But after Shon began to work with her, the customers started trickling in; the ladies drawn by his evanescent aura and the men who were desperate to buy flowers from the charming boy who was never not surrounded by women. Lyra didn’t mind, it brought business.  
“Those girls reminded me of Kori and you when you were younger,” he says, referring to his younger sister. On cue, a short, curvy girl bust through the doors with a high squeal.  
“Lyly!” she exclaimed excitedly, throwing her arms around her. If Shon was beautiful, then Kori was exquisite. She had golden hair, similar to her brother’s but she had added highlights of sea-green and lavender. Her clothes hugged her round hips, further accentuating the tempestuous curves of her body. But most of all, what drew people to Kori was her smile. It never dimmed, never left. When they were younger, Shon used to tell Kori that the sun only left because it was jealous of her smile.  
“Speak of the devil,” Shon says, but not without fondness. “What's up, Kori?”  
“Lyra! Let’s go out tonight!” Kori begged. “There’s going to be guys and drinks and-”  
“Lyra’s mine,” Shon says suddenly, cutting in. “For tonight.”  
“Sorry Kori,” Lyra laments, rubbing Kori’s shoulders. “Maybe next time? Shon and I are going biking by the pier.”  
Kori pokes Lyra’s cheek, “you spend more time with Shon than me. Disgraceful. I ought to chaperone the two of you.”  
“I’m older than both of you,” Shon rolls his eyes, but a smile taints his mask of annoyance. He’s about to say something when the growl of a motorcycle cuts him off. It gentles into a purr before going completely silent. Shon’s whole demeanour shifts, changing from playful to calm once more. Outside, Aleah Sieden shakes her pastel pink hair out of her helmet. While Kori was exquisitely beautiful, Aleah was devastating. Slim hips, narrow legs, and a face that could drive both men and women insane with desire, she was a stereotypical barbie doll. Shon left the store to greet his girlfriend, tossing an apologetic smile at Lyra and Kori, before slipping out the door.  
Lyra and Kori watch as Miss Perfect wraps her slender arms around Shon’s neck, melds her torso to his and kisses him slowly and intimately. Both the girls quickly find something else to look at, slightly embarrassed at witnessing a heated moment between the couple. 

* * *  
Lyra gazed out her reflection, an unimpressed face staring back at her. She tried not to overthink the way her white dress flared out awkwardly around her too-thin hips, and how some strands of hair managed to slip out of her careful high-pony. The mirror braved her whispered curses, something it has heard many times before. Her eyes continued to rove over her plain features- almond brown eyes, thin lips, and a long nose. She didn’t know why she tried so hard, considering the fact that Shon’s girlfriend was a fashion designer. Sighing, Lyra slipped on a dark cardigan and rummaged around her drawers for makeup.  
“Lyra?” Shon called. “Are you there, Lyra?” She hastily shoved the drawer closed, and clambered downstairs, nearly slipping on the last step. Such beauty, such grace. But Shon didn’t seem to be paying attention to her clumsiness (for once) and was looking elsewhere. Before she could pinpoint his gaze, his eyes flicked up and reanimated before he smiled brightly.  
“The dress looks great Ly,” He said gently, “but how will you ride a bike?” Damn.  
“I’ll go change,” the words rushed out, tripping over each other in their haste. She turned to start yet another battle with her closet before she felt Shon’s fingers close around her wrist. It was something he did often, ever since they were kids.  
“Don’t worry, Lyra. We’ll go walking instead.” Her eyes searched his golden eyes for any source of remorse but the ease and calamity in his eyes never dimmed. “We can visit the ocean and take pictures… You look too good in that dress to not post something for Instagram.”  
Lyra tried not to let the offhand compliment go to her head, but couldn’t seem to hide her cheeks. Shon smiled slightly at her, ‘blushed roses’ he had once teased, before turning to guide her out of the door.  
“Wait, I need my camera!” She exclaimed suddenly, startling Shon. He laughed and gave her a gentle shove and leaned against the bannister expectantly, as she ran up the stairs. When she came down, she noted the tension in the corner of his eyes, and the frown staining his usually clear expression.  
“Of course Aleah, anything. Do you want me to come to pick you up?” He asked, speaking into his cellphone.  
“Don’t…” Lyra started selfishly, before checking herself. Shon turned to her curiously. “Don’t stay on my account. She needs you, Shon, go.”  
Shon smiled and kissed Lyra on the cheek before turning to leave. She watched him go, his gait hurried and abrupt. 

* * *  
Lyra trudges up the dark hill, pushing her bike beside her and trying to make sure her arms didn’t give up. The ocean was singing a song of sorrow and sadness, the waves sliding down the sand in pity. She looks out towards the ocean and just listens. Every day, the ocean mourned, but she could never figure out who it grieved over.  
Her thoughts began to rush, love and loss running through her mind. She couldn’t breathe. And then she felt it. She felt the pain in her chest fissure and crack. She felt everything release within her, years of loneliness rendering her immobile. Tears began to stream down her cheeks, uncontrolled and unprovoked. She strained to hear the ocean’s song, to focus on something other than the noise of her thoughts. There, like a string of golden thread in the middle of the maze, she heard it. Her song. She leaned against the railing. BREATHE BREATHE BREATHE. But she could not. And then she was falling. 

* * *  
For as long as he had known, Ian had always despised himself. Though he had done everything he could to be the best he could be, somehow it always came down to this; he couldn’t fall in love. There are very few things worse than death, one being the ability to never love and the other being the ability to never be loved. If anyone asked Ian, he would tell you that he had done something in his life. He didn’t know what, but it had to have been unforgivable if God decided he could never love or be loved.  
When he saw the girl, and her broken heart, he knew. He had known deep within his soul that she was the reason. He may be cursed, but she? She was damned. Because from the moment he saw her, he had known he had to kill her. Never had he seen a heart so broken, a conscience so shattered. To the weak, what he was about to do may seem unforgivable. But those who were strong would be able to know that what he was about to do was necessary. Survival of the fittest. He was a murderer, but he liked to think that was one of his more redeeming qualities.

* * *  
The moon watched. She saw everything. She saw him swim to the Fallen one. She saw him cup her cheek, and hold her dearly, as a lover may. And then she saw him lower his lips to hers. 

* * *


	2. The Encounter

For as long as he had known, Ian had always despised himself. Though he had done everything he could to be the best he could be, somehow it always came down to this; he couldn’t fall in love. There are very few things worse than death, one being the ability to never love and the other being the ability to never be loved. If anyone asked Ian, he would tell you that he had done something in his life. He didn’t know what, but it had to have been unforgivable if God decided he could never love or be loved.  
When he saw the girl, and her broken heart, he knew. He had known deep within his soul that she was the reason. He may be cursed, but she? She was damned. Because from the moment he saw her, he had known he had to kill her. Never had he seen a heart so broken, a conscience so shattered. To the weak, what he was about to do may seem unforgivable. But those who were strong, would be able to know that what he was about to do was necessary. Survival of the fittest. He was a murderer, but he liked to think that was one of his more redeeming qualities.

* * *  
The moon watched. She saw everything. She saw him swim to the Fallen one. She saw him cup her cheek, and hold her dearly, as a lover may. And then she saw him lower his lips to hers. 

* * *

They say the eyes are a window to the soul. When she looks into his, she sees nothing but immense sadness and endless despair. She realizes his eyes mirror her soul, rather than reflect his own.

* * *

Lyra awakes to waves rushing around her and sand between her shoulders. Her thoughts have scattered leaving her mildly disconcerted as she tries to build a bridge in the gap between her memories. Lyra curses silently as she gazes up at the cliff she must have fallen from. She turns her head to inspect her arm for blood before her gaze lands on a man next to her. A boy? A naked boy? No. That was definitely a naked man. 

“E-excuse me?” she stuttered, tripping over a rock. She was finding it difficult to look away from his toned abdomen and sculpted biceps. God was really testing her today. She focused her eyes on his near-white hair, begging them not to stray downwards over his bronzed skin and… it suddenly occurred to her that he was not moving. Her heart raced as she considered calling the police. ‘Hello officer, yes I woke up to a sexy dead man next to me. No, I don’t know how he got there. How did I find him? Well I fell off a cliff.’ She could not imagine a scenario in her favour if she reported this to the authorities. She glanced at him again, knowing she needed to check his pulse but… he was naked and she had no idea where to look. Shoving her embarrassment into a closet within her head, she stands with purpose and marches towards the ocean. 

“WAKE UP!” She splashes him repeatedly, in hopes of rousing the handsome naked man. When that didn’t work, she began to kick sand over him, but stopped abruptly when she realized that it looked like she was burying a corpse. With a sudden stroke of brilliance, Lyra drapes her cardigan over his lower abdomen, and finally, allows herself to stare at him. 

Lyra’s heard the term “fox” being used as a term to describe one’s beauty, but that wasn’t right for the handsome naked man. He was more… like a shark. A sharp jawline, slender nose, and a cupid’s bow. He had one of those faces that you would look at and just know his smile would be absolutely devastating. Leaning towards the handsome naked shark man, she raised a hand to wipe away the drops on his face. Tears? The ocean? She didn’t have time to contemplate it because he began to cough suddenly. 

“Thank God,” she breathed in relief. He had not died and she would not have to deal with a corpse. She much preferred the living. The man just looked at her confused, before glancing down at the cardigan. 

“Are you feeling hurt? Is there something wr-,” her voice died in a shocked wheeze as he lifted the cardigan and looked admirably at his… she shoved him away in distress but he hardly swayed. Finally, glancing up at her, he smirked smugly at her. His eyes roved down the length of her before pausing on her legs. His mirth dissolved as his eyes bore holes into her thighs. Before Lyra could say anything, his hand was skimming up her knee, landing on her upper thigh and squeezing it. 

“What the hell!” she shouted, smacking him hard across the face. Despite the welt that seemed to be pulsing on his cheekbone, he looked unnerved.

“You didn’t feel anything?” He asked, watching her reaction closely. Feel anything? As in attraction?

“How badly did you hurt your head when you fell?” Lyra asked dryly, unamused with his childish advances. 

“Don’t play coy sweetheart.” He replied easily, brushing over her sarcasm. She cocked her head in confusion, maybe she had misinterpreted him? The handsome naked shark man’s- she really needed his name- eyes grew round as he realized that she had absolutely no idea what he was talking about. “It should have worked… you shouldn’t be here… you should have…” 

Lyra stood up fast. Had he tried to kill her? She hastened to find an escape, looking down the sand pathways that led out of the beach. She was stranded with a handsome, naked, shark, insane man and she really needed to leave before he tried to kill her again. 

“I’m going to go find help.” her words rushed over each other, tripping and stuttering in their race to leave her lips. The man wobbled as he stood up. 

“Where the hell do you think you’re going? We have to sort this out!” his voice, grew smaller as she attempted to climb up the cliff, her bare feet cutting against the jagged rock. Her hand reached forward and grabbed another ridge in the cliff, and she swung herself upwards and slipped on the wet stone. And then she was falling again, back into the dark ocean. Her eyes clamped shut as the sharp and frigid water pierced her senses. She knew she would sink soon if she didn’t start trying to swim. She opened her eyes, meeting the stare of the man from the beach, and then noting that the bottom half of his body was… she glanced down at her own body and caught sight of the tail that now replaced her legs. Lyra couldn’t help it- she screamed.


	3. A tale of a tail

Arms reached around Lyra and rushed her to the surface, cradling her close to a hard chest. She couldn’t feel her toes, her legs. Trembling, Lyra staggered onto the shore, the waves muffled against the rushing of her thoughts. Distantly she heard the man shouting, her eyes skipped over the ocean, her mind lost at sea.

“I knew something was wrong. It should have worked!” The man huffed angrily. “Why didn’t it-”   
He broke off suddenly, shocked at the sharp shell being held against his neck.   
“What did you do to me?” Lyra screamed, pressing the cone shell harder into his neck. “I want answers, now.”   
“As much as a sexy girl in a short dress holding a sharp object against my neck turns me on, I would love it if we could try talking about this in a civil manner? Why don’t you put the shell down sweetheart?”   
“I am not your sweetheart,” she spat in disgust. He shrugged.  
“There were so many things that were wrong with my sentence, and that is what you chose to focus on?” he replied, eyebrows raising as if she was the madwoman here. His voice darkens, unamused. “Okay fish bait, now put the shell down so I can explain.” 

“Are you a mermaid?” Lyra asked, loosening her grip on the shell. The man scoffed in disgust.   
“A mermaid? Come on sweetheart, that’s insulting,” indeed he looked irritated with the very prospect. He combed his fingers through his white hair. “We’re sirens. Our job is to kill, and look sexy doing it. Besides, don’t play the victim here… this is what you agreed to” 

“Murderers are not sexy. Don’t romanticize them. What do you mean by this is what I agreed to?” 

“You don’t think women wielding swords is sexy? Sounds fake, but okay,” he tilts his head at her, scrutinizing her actions as though it may hold the key to her lack of lust towards women holding swords. “You don’t remember what you agreed to?”

“I don’t understand anything right now. Mermaids don’t exist, sirens are mythological. This has to be a sick joke,” she sputtered. Sudden fear filled her eyes. “Did you drug me? Is that why I thought I saw a tail? Am I dreaming?”

His eyes glinted before dimming. “Sirens were once human,” he intones as though this is something he has been through often. “We are given a blessing and a curse. Everything begins with the end of a human life. When a heartbroken human is drowning, they are offered, ‘a second chance at life,’ so to speak.

“Under two conditions. The human must give their memories in exchange of becoming a slave to the sea-an afflicted vagabond of the ocean,” he pauses, taking in her reaction. “Don’t expect me to stare off into the distance in sadness, I’m not that kind of guy.” 

“What was the other condition?” Lyra asked, baffled. 

“The siren becomes the human, and the human becomes the siren,” he admitted, looking sheepish. “Obviously, it didn’t work for us. I guess we’re the lucky one percent?”

“How do I know you’re telling the truth?” She demanded. The man shrugged. 

“I’m just as lost as you are sweetheart. If you’re not going to take my word for it, have fun dying. Remember, ‘it doesn’t matter how you live, it’s how you die’ yada yada.” 

“Take it back,” Lyra says flatly. “I don’t agree to these terms. I’d like a refund.”

“My kisses have a no-refund policy, sorry.” The man says, his lips rising into a smirk. Lyra blushes at the memory of the kiss causing his smile to widen. She pinches him for that.

“What was that for?” He yelps, rubbing the sore spot and shooting her a mild glare. He looks down at his bicep, stroking it lovingly.

“I was checking to see if I was dreaming.” Lyra banters, rolling her eyes.. 

“You’re supposed to pinch yourself, not me!” 

“Give me back my life,” she turns her fiercest glare to him.

“Stop acting like you had one to begin with,” he says dryly. “This is my chance at real life again. I need this.” She considers this. A third chance at life? After a moment's hesitation, she takes a deep breath. 

“Okay, shut up for a minute because if you open your mouth and all that shit comes out, I’ll hit you,” she says, before continuing. “I’ll let you stay with me because you obviously have nowhere to go.” 

“And if I don’t behave?” he says with a suggestive smile. Lyra tightens her hold on the shell. “Okay, I get it lady, relax.”

“My name is Lyra. What do I call you?”

“Sexy,” he says seriously. Lyra gives him a hard look. He sighs. “I can’t say. We forget everything about our former identity. I have yet to choose a name that encompasses my overall godliness.”

“Ian. I’m going to call you Ian.”

“Hell no,” he says in disgust. “Did you listen to anything I said?”

“Ian is a very masculine name!” She protests. He thinks about this then nods. It doesn’t take much to sway his opinion. He doesn’t need to know that Ian was the name of her former goldfish. 

* * *

Later when the moon retreats with its army of stars, Lyra stirs awake, rubbing at the drool on the side of her mouth. She sits up and realizes that there’s a stick and a note on her side table. Picking up the note she reads it, before laughing to herself quietly. ‘It really happened.’   
* * *  
The door chimes as Shon enters the Carnation Flower Shop, a bag of groceries in his hand. He freezes when he sees a shirtless man sitting on the counter. A burglar? He scans the room looking for Lyra, landing on her shirt on the ground. He feels the anger and fury build in him as he sets the bag down. 

The man turns around to look at him, but Shon is already charging towards him, his fist cocked and ready. The man hits the ground with a thud, as Shon rams into him. 

“What did you do to Lyra,” Shon demands, growing angrier by each second that ticks by.   
“Let go of my legs, Goddamnit! I just got them!” Before Shon can analyze that, the man swipes one of the chairs and throws it at him. Shon jumps back to avoid it. 

“What is going on?” Lyra asks, rushing down the stairs. “Shon?” 

She’s wearing a long satin button-up and pyjama shorts. Her hair is undone and wild, some of it shining burgundy in the morning light. Shon looks at her watery blue eyes, and her lips, puffy with sleep. There’s an indent on her cheek where she slept on her pillow, and he can’t stop but look at her chipped nails when she tucks a stray piece of hair behind her ear. She is beautiful. 

“Fishbait! Nice nighties,” the man salutes her, his eyes roaming Lyra’s figure unabashedly. Shon doesn’t think as he takes two long strides towards Lyra, and swivels her behind him. He turns to Lyra, his eyes holding hers with severity.

“Lyra. Go next door and call the police while I take care of him,” he says. For some odd reason, she does not move. 

“Shon, there’s been a misunderstanding. It’s not what you think!” She says, placing her hands on his chest as though to keep him from storming towards the man. 

“How do you know him?” Shon asks. He doesn’t understand the feeling that simmers beneath his skin. 

“Well… you see,” Lyra trails off, as the man comes behind her and wraps his arms around Lyra. 

“Aw sweetheart. You can tell him what we did,” the man says, pressing a kiss into her hair. Shon feels his eye twitch. Lyra swiftly digs her elbow into the man, sending him backwards with a small oof. The man hangs his head in slight repentance. 

“This is Ian. He’s… a son of a family friend. Unfortunately, he was mugged and all his money and bags were stolen. So… I’m letting him stay with me for a while.”

“What kind of lame-ass story is that? You make me sound defenceless,” Ian protests. 

“What’s in the bag?” Lyra asks. Ian peers into the bag over her shoulder. 

“I felt bad about leaving you yesterday, so I thought I’d make breakfast,” Shon replies. “Ian, would you mind giving us a moment alone?” 

Ian leaves the room, grumbling unintelligibly under his breath. Shon watches him as he goes, before turning to Lyra. 

“His name is Ian, right?” Lyra nods. Shon rests his chin in his palm. “I think I’ve heard of him before. When you were thirteen, you had a goldfish named Ian, didn’t you?”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“When you were twelve you had a stuffed animal named Ian because you wanted a baby brother, did you not?” 

“Yes but-”

“And when you were sixteen, you named that small plant in the backroom Ian, because you wanted something to tend to, correct?” 

“Shon, don’t be ridiculous.” Lyra laughs nervously, her eyes shifting to the side. Shon grasps her wrist and slides her towards him. 

“Lyra, it’s okay if there’s something between you two,” he said as his heart hurt. He smiled, but it felt foreign. “My happiness depends on yours. Are you okay with him?” 

“Shon… It’s not like that.”

“You still haven’t answered my question, Lyr.” His eyes trace her features. “I’m asking if you’re okay. That’s what’s most important.” 

“I’m good Shon. It’s not a big deal.” Lyra grimaced. 

“Are you sure? I would have thought that having a half-naked man living with you would be uncomfortable but if you’re into that sort of thing… you do you.” He smiled and ruffled her hair. Lyra laughed and Shon felt his heart smile in response. After she asked Shon if Ian could borrow some clothes, Shon left the house. He leans against the door and sighs to himself. Some things were not meant to be.

* * *


End file.
